


Hand in Hand

by PotatoAyeeee63



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Blood and Injury, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Drabble, Established Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Minor Character Death, Religious Discussion, Season 3 Finale, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:07:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29586993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotatoAyeeee63/pseuds/PotatoAyeeee63
Summary: “Their unlovable hands will always be clutched together.”(s03 e13: Wrath of the Lambs- Spoilers)After the final breath of the ‘Red Dragon’, both Will and Lecter are left to contemplate everything that happened, and how they changed one another forever with hand in hand
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Kudos: 11





	Hand in Hand

**Author's Note:**

> “Hand in Unlovable hand”
> 
> WARNINGS:  
> -canon character death (minor character)  
> -some religious themes (briefly mentioned)  
> -some blood and injury  
> (they are gay full homo)

_With the red dragon’s final roar,_ his blood spluttered onto the ground, staining a permanent crimson mark onto the ground underneath. The desperation for another breath, the rage of being slain like some mortal, and the undeniable satisfaction that he is the ‘red dragon’ and will remain even after death; all twirling and wrapping around that primal cry. 

Will noted the creases in that monster’s face deepen and the hollowness in that voice grow emptier and emptier until the only thing that filled the air was the musk of iron and gasps of exhalation. The blood draining along into the flooring, into the minuscule and intricate lines. It all trailed to form a set of fiery scarlet wings; fitting end to the beast. Then tranquility.

Will staggered, his lungs as if set aflame and the match still lit in the cavities of his heart. He had every single emotion full cascaded into his veins; terror, exhaustion, anger, thrill, bloodlust, shock and something that cannot even be placed as an emotion. All was blended into a surreal entropy, that strangely felt mundane to Will by now, almost comforting. A flash of hissing pain, grimly remanding Will of the wounds brutalised over his body that trickled into a tingle. The numbness wearing off now that there wasn’t any adrenaline to rely on. The slash that left a hideous, scarlet choker over his neck dribbled and the slits ploughed into his abdomen, ugly marks over his body. 

The slick of blood leaving the curves of his hand, Will turned to see his partner in crime; Hannibal. The same exhausted eyes as his, but the spark of some lovesick excitement in his. Will held his hand out to him, something Hannibal Lecter has done so many times for Will, which Will is opening to Hannibal. The stained red hand that welcomed him, Hannibal shakily clutched onto it until the two pulled into one another. Intimate and so, so very close, the two could hear and see the trembling and bulldozing heartbeats between one another. Their breaths scraping over each other’s lips, harsh yet dearly needed, and the undeniable bliss. As much as Will knows, this is immoral, this is terribly wrong, he could only gaze into Hannibal’s eyes, enthralling and tantalising. Hannibal then spoke, his voice so soft yet how sinful his tongue must be. The amount of bodies and death that fed that same tongue, not like Will is any better. 

“See?”,Hannibal muttered, his voice acute with pain but eager; just like Garett Jacob Hobbes who sat there choking on his own blood and the first to begin Will’s descent. The pure yet visceral corruption that Will and Hannibal fondly remember, the unsaid connection the both share in corrupting one another.

“That’s all i ever wanted from you,” Will tried to take in a steady breath, “For both of us” It was an almost torturous thought, Will desiring nothing else but to choke Hannibal down on the spot right there and then yet also making him want to stare into the man in front of him forever. Nausea peaked and his body unravelling from the fresh, jarring pain, but his mind was as focused as ever. Will admired how the moonlight seemed to shine into Hannibal’s irises, the blood seeping down his face that looks natural on him. 

He could still see the dark branches of antlers spreading high into the air crowning over Hannibal’s head, a monster, no satan itself. But only Will’s heart still to tremble even more, but now never would it be from disgust or fear of the man. Hannibal was the only one who made life feel true, authentic and fulfilled. They were both ingrained into each other’s life, strewn into one another. But the bodies, the sheer mass of damage and the shattered lives that was tossed aside. What really is righteous? 

“It’s beautiful,” he admitted, his face furrowing in a way Hannibal had to call endearing. How far has he watched Will Graham blossom? From a seedy inspector that only had proved interesting at the time, a mess that arrived at his door. Hannibal simply wanted to watch, watch how the mouse would run the maze of his own design. But now he realised, it was Will’s design, but also his. The once shaggy man who had the scent of weak cologne and dog hair, who transformed into a steadfast, fuming wild mutt that would bite his own throat if it was not from being imprisoned. To the intoxicating beauty that invited the blood and him into his life, even if that was a farce, to now. 

Then the Will Graham before him currently had gingerly muttered, “it’s beautiful”. The Will Graham that wore a pale white shirt, overshadowed by either his blood, Will’s blood or the blood of the ‘red dragon’ over there. The Will Graham who had now the clearest eyes, the set of eyes who he knew would peer into his own and the only set that could understand. Understand his motives, his actions and just him, understanding with delicate empathy as he pulls the layers one by one. The Will Graham who pulled into his life, heart and mind; just as he dragged Will into his. How he changed Will, and he changed him. 

Suddenly, Hannibal felt the weight on him shift, as Will steadily nudged into his chest. Arms holding each other, the two embraced. Will’s hand over his shoulder and his over him, the embrace untouchable for anyone but them. The fragility of the touch made the two men lean into one another, the fondness discernible in the heaving of their bodies. Will was Hannibal’s and Hannibal’s was Will. Two cannot live with each other, but one couldn’t live without the other. Such a cherished relationship of life and death. A loving sense of devotion, or a chilling tone of compulsive obsession; all firmly balanced as it should be. Had god forsaken them with this, or was this such a rebellion against the lord?

Before Hannibal could muster anything else, he felt the clutch on his shoulder tighten and how the world around him flipped into a descent. The wind streamlining into his muffled hair, sea salt digging like parasites into the wounds. Will’s weight was flattening against Hannibal’s body and his feet now soaring into the night. The natural law of gravity pinned the pair down, down and downwards into the darkness of the cliffs. Will had settled into acceptance, eyes closing, as Hannibal, clearly looking at the face of the other, only smiled one of such tenderness. They both neither squirmed, struggled or ripped from each other’s grasp.

Content in each other’s company, for all of eternity, they crashed into the depths of bone white seafoam and the blankets of ocean wrapping over and over. Their hands were still grasping onto the other, even under the wreckage of water over them again and again. And with the waves of Atlantic blue leaving behind no trace or sin, the cliffside emerged in vacant silence.

  
Untouchable and unsullied, their unlovable hands will always be clutched together.

_“I am drowning._  
_There is no sign of land._  
_You are coming down with me._  
_Hand in unlovable hand”_

_-No Children, The Mountain Goats_

**Author's Note:**

> So hey  
> Got into Hannibal and binged all 3 seasons immediately and kinda got into a drabble mood- Pretty much a character study and an attempt to sound poetic lol Just really wanted to explore the more symbolic parts of their relationships, or at least my interpretation 
> 
> Im still a new author so any feedback or comments helps a lot!


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